I walked into the kitchen and found Nathan standing by the marble island.

He was pouring a glass of scotch, his sleeves rolled up to his elbows.

He did not look up when I entered.

“You were gone a long time,” he said, his tone casual, almost conversational.

“I had an errand to run,” I said, keeping my distance near the hallway.

He picked up his glass and took a slow sip, his eyes finally meeting mine in the dim light.

“I hope it wasn’t too strenuous,” he said. “The doctor said you need to avoid unnecessary stress.”

“I am fine,” I said.

He set the glass down with a soft click against the marble.

“Are you?” he asked, taking a step toward me. “Because you seem very tense lately, Catherine. Almost paranoid.”

He reached into his pocket and pulled out his phone.

The screen lit up his face, casting a pale blue glow over his sharp features.

“I was looking over our household accounts this afternoon,” he said softly.

“And what did you find?” I asked, keeping my voice level.